Creatures of the Night
by Peachdreamsandperseus
Summary: "He is a creature of the night hopelessly in love with an angel of light, a soul so pure and beautiful that to defile it would be a crime." - the inhabitants of Downton get more than they bargained for when politically minded chauffeur Tom Branson enters their lives. Like everyone in that house he has his secrets, but keeping his can make all the difference between life and death.


_**Okay, so this one's for The Yankee Countess who sent me a prompt on Tumblr requesting some sort of Vampire!Tom… It has the potential to be a much longer, very M rated, multi-chapter if you guys like it. Needless to say, it ended up becoming 1,500 words of pure smut and I'm going off to hide in a dark corner now.**_

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**_Summer 1914_**

It's hardest when he makes love to her.

Her entire body is flushed, her pulse racing and the way she tosses her head back as she surrenders to her passion exposes the alabaster skin of her neck to him in a way that drives him wild with desire. He wants to nip and bite and suck at that neck, to watch her come undone as he brings her to new heights of pleasure. It's dangerous though, especially when he's been abstinent for so long - he knows that he could do it, but whether or not he'd have the power to stop is another matter entirely. His thumb brushes across the pulse point in her wrist as he so tenderly binds it to the cold metal frame of his bed, adding something a little more forbidden to their illicit encounter in an attempt to remove just some of the temptation from himself. He was naive to think that it would work as he watches her fight against her restraints, arching her back in a desperate attempt to get closer to him. He hears her heart pounding in her chest as he suckles at her breast, teasing a taut rosy nipple with his tongue, kissing and licking her flesh as he moves further down her body, feeling the pulsing of her femoral artery below his hand as he settles his head between her parted thighs. She's ready and wet for him, panting his name in desperation and staring down at him with pleading eyes and swollen lips - it's probably the single most erotic sight he's ever seen. He knows that they're both safe here - that he can lose himself in pleasuring her in the most intimate of ways, forgetting just for a moment about the raging thirst that plagues him every minute he spends by her side. He smirks and teases her with feather light kisses on the inside of her thigh, so close and yet so far away from the place where she wants him most. She practically screams with relief as he lasciviously sucks on her swollen nub, rolling his tongue around it and resisting the urge to nip it playfully with his teeth.

She bites down on her lip in an attempt to silence her mewls and moans of pleasure as he inserts one finger and then another into her opening, her hips bucking against him as he thrusts rhythmically in time with each caress of his tongue. He can be quite rough with her when he wants to be, but his suffragette loves it - he'd been afraid that he'd hurt her at first but she had assured him that it was quite the opposite and he'd been pleasantly surprised to learn in the relatively short time since their first little tryst that she's more than capable of giving in to her most primitive desires and giving as good as she gets. She shatters with a guttural scream of pleasure and collapses back on the bed, her shoulders aching though not entirely unpleasantly from having her arms suspended above her head and she watches him intently as he wipes his mouth and chin on the back of his hand, moving to hover over her once more. He swallows hard as he notices the blood on her lip and, forgetting himself for just a fraction of a second, he darts out his tongue and licks it off. The taste of her is his undoing, just as he always knew that it would be - it's richer than the finest blend of whisky and sweeter than the nectar of the gods of Olympus. She opens her mouth to him, caressing and twining his tongue with her own and he knows that he is damned - not that he already wasn't. Wrapping her legs around him, the pair of them groaning as his hardened prick finds her begging cunt and their bodies coming together in a way that's so familiar to them now.

He sucks harder at her lip as he unties her from the bed - they've been playing a dangerous enough game as it is since the night she'd surrendered herself to him and allowed him to take her virtue. It had been the night of the count in Ripon when he'd carried her almost lifeless body in his arms, the sight of the blood dripping down her face terrifying him in every way imaginable. She'd come to him and they'd argued, one thing leading to another before they'd ended up confessing their true feelings for one another. Actions had spoke louder than words that night as they'd tumbled into his bed, fumbling in the darkness in a hasty bid to divest each other of their clothing. He'd known that he was ruining her, but neither of them had ever once stopped to consider the consequences of what they were doing - it had felt so right and, for the first time in so very long, he felt almost human again. It wasn't until the following morning that he began to feel any sort of regret, standing there behind the ramshackle cottage he inhabited as he burnt his sheets on an open fire, the sight of her virgin blood upon them having reawakened a part of him that he'd kept dormant for years. He was a monster, he knew he was and he'd always preferred to remain solitary, keeping himself to himself lest he end up imposing this curse upon another. He could never have imagined that it would be an aristocrat's daughter here in this rural part of Yorkshire than would be the one to make him lose control once more. On several occasions, he had found himself wondering whether or not he should just quench his thirst and, as he would look down on her curled into his side and sleeping contentedly after another round of vigorous lovemaking, he would often wonder what would be the worst that could happen. She would be like him - an eternity with her at his side didn't seem like such a bad thing. However, whenever he'd see the blush on her cheeks as she'd catch his eye and feel her pulse under his fingers as he helped her in and out of the motor that he'd realise how incredibly selfish he was being - she was only just eighteen and had her whole life ahead of her. He could never give her children or the extravagance that she had grown up with - she was a queen and deserved to be treated as such, not to have her life taken from her and then damned to spend forever with a gutter rat like him - but he loves her and, once upon a time, love had meant everything to him.

She wraps her arms around his neck and lets her fingers rake through his hair and scratch at his scalp. He adjusts their position and manages to lean back on his haunches, bringing her with him so that she's now straddling his thighs.

"Take me away," she pleads breathlessly. "Let's... oh yes... let's just go. Away from... hmm... away from here. Away from this life... somewhere where the war can't find us."

He drops his head to her neck, allowing himself to indulge in the pleasure of kissing the skin of her throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark but keeping his teeth away from her as much as he can - it's getting harder though and his resolve is beginning to crack.

"We can't," he murmurs, knowing that running away with him would quite literally be the death of her. "Darling we... mmm... we can't."

She pushes him backwards so that now he's the one lying on the bed and begins riding him like one would a prized stallion. Her breasts bounce with her movements and she scratches her nails down his chest making him hiss with pleasure when she catches his nipples. "Please," she begs. "Oh God, please..." her orgasm rips through her body, his own following close behind and he spills himself inside her with a cry of her name.

She collapses against him and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into an impossibly tight embrace.

"Please, Tom," she whispers again, peppering his skin with kisses as he comes down from his high. "I love you... I'm yours forever."

"Forever's a very long time, ma mhuirnín."

"Then who better to spend it with than you?"

He's conflicted - she doesn't even **know** what he is and so he's faced with one of two options should he choose to give in. He can either tell her and risk her thinking him mad or just do it and risk having her loathe him for all eternity.

He'd always thought that death was supposed to be easy, that it was supposed to be final and the end of all things - oh how wrong he had been. Death is much harder than life ever was and for all sins he's committed since his death, he'd be sure to be going to hell if he still had a soul to be condemned.

He is a creature of the night hopelessly in love with an angel of light, a soul so pure and beautiful that todefile it would be a crime.

It's a choice he's going to have to make though - she is stubborn and persistent and he knows that she won't stop until they're far away from here. Question is, how literally does she intend forever to be?


End file.
